


The Incident

by Alys_Brauer



Series: Reclaimed [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: M/M, Poor Bofur, The scene that was cut from Chapter 4, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 10:23:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6850900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alys_Brauer/pseuds/Alys_Brauer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There really was only so much a dwarf should be expected to take. A line should be drawn for how far he had to go for honour and duty.</p>
<p>For all that he had accepted reality, for all that he was happy for both Bilbo and Thorin, there were still some things that Bofur wished he didn’t have to witness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Incident

**Author's Note:**

> Here's "The Incident" referred to in Chapter 4 of Unrequited.

There really was only so much a dwarf should be expected to take. A line should be drawn for how far he had to go for honour and duty.

For all that he had accepted reality, for all that he was happy for both Bilbo and Thorin, there were still some things that Bofur wished he didn’t have to be witness to. It had been three days already, and it looked like Thorin and Bilbo had no intention of coming out of the king’s chambers any time soon. Of course that made _guarding_ Thorin rather easy, unfortunately the activities that kept them in the chamber were not ones that he particularly wanted to listen to.

It had become predictable now. There would be a lull in the noises that Bofur could easily hear, a bout of laughter, some murmuring, and then Thorin would come to the door. His king would poke his dishevelled head out the door and ask for food to be brought to them. The order would be sent down to the kitchens, and Bombur would bring up a meal large enough for a hobbit appetite, a hungry king, with enough sides for snacks later.

They had gotten used to how a hobbit needed to eat while engaged in…strenuous activities.

Bofur’s one consolation was that he didn’t have to see Bilbo when he delivered the food. He wasn’t sure exactly _where_ the hafling was, but it wasn’t answering the door looking debauched. It was bad enough that he had to see Thorin with that very satisfied smirk, looking far, far too pleased with himself.

Taking the tray from his brother, Bofur nodded in thanks as Bombur hurried back to the kitchen to prepare dinner for the rest of Erebor. Balancing the tray, he approached the door, kicking it since his hands were too full to knock with. “Yehr dinner yehr majesties,” he called out, stepping back from the door as he held out the tray.

He was expecting Thorin.

It was usually Thorin.

That _wasn’t_ Thorin.

Bilbo appeared in the door, idly running his fingers through messy curls. Bofur could feel his jaw dropping, along with the tray. Cursing under his breath, he managed to catch the tray before it fell to the floor. He could feel heat rising in his cheeks, and silently thanked Mahal for the beard that covered the blush.

“Oh Bofur! Thank goodness I’m starving.” Bilbo smiled brightly, letting is hand drop from raking through his hair.  “Is it more mushrooms?” There was a drowsy, contented note to the hobbit’s voice that Bofur had never heard before. “I’m all for mushrooms, really I am but there are just too many here. I’m fairly certain I saw a dish that was nothing but mushrooms. I don’t know how, but I’m sure it was.”

_‘Keep yehr eyes up. Keep yehr eyes up.’_ Bofur repeated the phrase in his head, swallowing hard and trying to find words that made some sort of sense.

 “ _Zarshamâd udrai-_ ” Coughing, Bofur shook his head slightly. It was very hard to be coherent when Bilbo was standing there in nothing but a large shirt that was most definitely _Thorin’s_.  His friend was fairly glowing, standing there with a sleepy satisfied smile that could only come from one thing. Unfortunately, from what Bofur could hear from his position guarding Thorin’s door, there was relatively little left for his imagination.

How he wished there was something left to his imagination.

“Sorry what was that?” Bilbo laughed softly, tilting his head to the side in confusion. “I do believe you were speaking Khuzdul.”

It was a long shirt. A very long shirt. It went down to Bilbo’s knees. Really nothing was being exposed, it wasn’t like when Thorin answered the door but- But under that shirt was nothing. There was nothing but- “’’ _Udar_ _sibasîn.”_   He tried again, trying very hard not to imagine a different shirt on Bilbo.

_It would be rougher spun, not silk or fine cotton, but it would be soft and warm from being worn so well. A little shorter than Thorin’s, it would only come to Bilbo’s mid-thigh. It would fall off the hobbit’s shoulder slightly, as he had broader shoulders, inviting gentle kisses and nuzzles. His hands would slide easily around Bilbo’s waist, pulling him back against him-_

“ _Naibrizi-”_ his voice came out a soft strangled wheeze.

“Bilbo? What’s taking so long?”

_‘Oh thank Mahal! Hopefully he didn’t notice that.’_ Bofur pushed the image from his mind, trying to keep control of himself. He’d been doing so _well_ up to that point. He had been so sure that he was over Bilbo, that he was okay with this. He could feel the blush spreading from his cheeks up to his nose.

Bofur had never been happier for an interruption.

Coming up behind Bilbo, Thorin wrapped his arms lazily around Bilbo’s middle, resting his chin on the halfling’s shoulder. Turning his head, the king pressed his nose against Bilbo’s neck, kissing him lazily. “We’re not finished yet _akdâmuthrab_ ,” Thorin purred, nibbling at Bilbo’s ear.

Bofur nearly choked, feeling his hands beginning to shake. Of course. This was fine. Mahal had absolutely no pity.

“Oh shush.” Bilbo slapped at Thorin’s hand rubbing his belly, the very tips of his ears turning bright red. “I’m trying to talk-” The hobbit’s voice cut off in a strangled squeak as he half turned to face Thorin and caught sight of the king. “THORIN!”

The broken squeak of Bilbo’s horror was almost enough to make Bofur laugh. A weak chuckle did escape him, he couldn’t help himself. Honestly, the laugh was more at the irony of the situation.

“Thorin…are you nude?” The hobbit’s voice was the epitome of hushed horror.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Thorin practically purred.

Of course, why wouldn’t he be? Bofur was completely used to the sight of Thorin naked. Nudity wasn’t really something that upset dwarves. Not usually. This was just a special circumstance. Of course he had to have fallen in love with the hobbit destined to be his king’s consort.

“THORIN!” Flapping his hands, Bilbo tilted his head back to glare at Thorin – since the king seemed reluctant to let the hobbit go. “At least put on some trousers you big lug!”

“Why?” Thorin lifted his head, idly running his hands through Bilbo’s hair, a hungry gleam in his eyes. “They’ll only come off again.”

MAHAL HAVE MERCY! Hadn’t they had enough already?

“The door is open! Cover up!”

Bofur hadn’t been aware that Bilbo’s voice could go any higher than it already had. He should say something. Reassure Bilbo that it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before. He was Thorin’s guard after all – he’d seen a few things that he would never repeat.

“I can see that.” Thorin sounded far too amused, a playful smirk dancing over his lips. “Oh hello Bofur. How is your brother? I think Bilbo left him a note about his spice choices?”

“ _Sibasîl-”_ Bofur coughed, blinking rapidly. “Sorry- yes the spices. Bombur said that we’re still working on getting all the spices. He hoped that Bilbo would help him plant a proper herb garden.” As long as he kept his eyes up, staring at a point somewhere past Thorin’s shoulder, he could pretend that this wasn’t happening.

This was all fine.

Perfectly fine.

He was not interrupting their post-coital glow. Not at all.

Bilbo began to make soft distressed noises, smacking at Thorin’s hand again. “Stop that! I’m sorry Bofur.”

Thorin’s fingers had found the single braid in Bilbo’s hair. Tracing his fingers down it, the king got a soft smile on his face, twisting the silver bead between his fingers. That smile was so tender.

Bofur felt his heart crumble again at that, guilt biting at him for the fantasy he had entertained earlier. He had no right to imagine, even for a moment, that these two were parted. He’d never seen Thorin so happy, so at peace with himself.

“It’s all right Bilbo.” Somehow he managed to force a laugh past his lips. “It’s honestly nothin’ I haven’t seen before. Here.” He held out the tray. “There’s no mushrooms in this one, and Bombur tried to adjust the spices fer yeh. Now yeh two kids go have fun.”

Bilbo laughed again, taking the tray from him. Bofur coughed, trying not to dwell too long on the feel of Bilbo’s warm fingers sliding over his own.

“Come on _amrâlimê_ ,” Thorin whispered – loud enough for Bofur to hear as well. “You have something to finish do you not?”

Clearing his throat, Bofur returned to his position beside the door.

“Sorry Bofur!” Bilbo called out again as the door finally shut behind them.

Valars be praised. He wouldn’t have to watch anymore, or hear anything for at least another hour.

He was going to have to find someone else to deliver the food from now on. His poor heart couldn’t take another shock like that.

 


End file.
